


Chronic Apologies

by CommonNonsense



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:59:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7664098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree accidentally offends Hanzo and spends the day apologizing, much to Hanzo's annoyance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chronic Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> A Tumblr prompt from an anon who wanted McCree low-key hurting Hanzo's feelings and apologizing all day until it got annoying. P:

It’s the sort of lazy afternoon that McCree always talked about having as a kid, but Hanzo had never enjoyed. The Gibraltar base is near-empty; Winston is holed up in his lab and the rest of the team is out on recon assignments, leaving Hanzo and McCree to do as they liked. The weather outside is mildly pleasant, streaming warm sunshine through the windows in the rec room. They’ve made themselves comfortable on the long, squashy couch--Hanzo tucked into the corner with a book, McCree stretched out along its length with his head in Hanzo’s lap. 

Hanzo has a book in one hand and his other hand combing absently through McCree’s hair. Reading, however, is nearly impossible, because McCree is feeling chatty this afternoon and won’t relent until he can draw Hanzo into some form of conversation. Hanzo feels like he should be annoyed, but finds he doesn’t mind. He’s happy here, listening to his lover chatter on about nothing, not knowing what he’s read for the last ten pages, warm and content with nothing to do until tomorrow.

It’s the sort of afternoon he had never thought to want. 

McCree is talking about his family now, though Hanzo isn’t entirely sure about what. McCree switches easily between English and Spanish as he quotes his mother and younger siblings; Hanzo thinks about asking McCree to speak Spanish more often.

“--we used to get into fights all the time,” McCree chuckles, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Like, real physical fights. My brother was smaller than me but he was  _ mean _ when he got angry. Never meant nothin’ in the end, but there was one or two times we actually got into it so bad that we actually hurt each other.  _ Mamá  _ was pissed when she caught us.”

He laughs again. He turns his face into Hanzo’s stomach, nuzzling in with a contented little noise. He cracks an eye open to look up as he says, “Bet you’d know all about that. Can’t imagine the shit you and Genji got into when you were mad. Bet you nearly killed each other growin’ up.

Hanzo freezes.

“Ow,  _ shit _ darlin’--” McCree reaches up and grabs at Hanzo’s hand, which Hanzo only realizes several seconds later has tightened to a fist in McCree’s hair. He lets go, startled and ashamed to have reacted so suddenly. 

“Did I say somethin’?” McCree asks. He sits up and twists to look back at Hanzo. 

Hanzo grits his teeth. “I would prefer it if you did not say such things about my brother and I,” he says stiffly.

“What, about fightin’ as kids? Everyone who has a sibling fights with ‘em, I don’t--” McCree cuts himself off, eyes widening with sudden realization of the line he’s crossed. “Oh. Oh shit, Hanzo. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Hanzo turns his head away. Shame wells in his throat for reacting as he did. It was a joke, he reminds himself. McCree has never intentionally hurt him and would hardly begin now. “It is fine,” he says. 

“No, it ain’t,” McCree insists. He scrambles up onto his knees, gently takes Hanzo’s face between both hands, and draws him back so that they are eye-to-eye. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says again, emphatic and serious. “Really. I was just playin’ around and didn’t even think about it. You know I’d never say somethin’ like that on purpose, right?”

Hanzo sighs, letting his frustration and hurt leave him on the exhale. “Yes,” he replies. “I do. It is alright, Jesse.”

McCree kisses his forehead. “Sorry,” he murmurs against his skin.

“And I have said it is fine,” Hanzo repeats, gently pushing McCree back by the shoulders. He smiles to show that he means it, but McCree still looks uncertain. “It was a mistake. You have apologized. It is fine. Lie back down.”

Slowly, McCree does as he’s bidden, setting his head back into Hanzo’s lap. He is silent this time, even as Hanzo threads his fingers back through his hair, effectively dismissing the conversation. By the time Hanzo reaches the end of the page in his book, he has forgotten entirely about the incident.

“M’sorry,” McCree mumbles five minutes later, muffled as he is with his face tucked into Hanzo’s shirt. 

Hanzo sighs again, this time with a touch of agitation. “It is fine.” 

 

\--

 

Later, as the afternoon gives way to evening, they break apart for a short time. McCree goes for dinner, and Hanzo, uninterested in eating, has a shower and a change of clothing. He washes and dresses efficiently, feeling light and content from the quiet day. 

When he makes his own way to the kitchen, he finds McCree already there with a mug in each hand. McCree perks up as soon as he notices Hanzo and sweeps over to meet him, pressing one of the mugs into his hands and a kiss to his temple.

“Made you some tea,” he says. Hanzo glances down at his cup and notices that yes, he has been given a freshly-brewed cup of his favorite green tea before realizing he had even wanted it. 

“Well. I wasn’t even sure you knew how to make tea,” he teases before taking a sip. 

“Wh--I can make  _ tea, _ Hanzo, it’s hot water and a bag,” McCree sputters in overdramatic fashion. “Besides, I felt like I owed you for before, so . . .”

Hanzo pauses. “‘Owed’ me?”

“Well, y’know, I still feel bad for what I said earlier.” 

It takes Hanzo several genuine seconds to recall what McCree means. With a smile and a sigh he hopes does not sound too exasperated, he says, “Jesse, I have already told you not to worry about that. You have already apologized.”

“I know, I know, I just wanna be sure. A guy ain’t supposed to upset his sweetheart like that.” McCree drinks deeply from his coffee, looking embarrassed. Hanzo rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“I had already forgotten. At this point, repeatedly apologizing is only going to make it worse.”

\--

Despite the warning, McCree apologizes two more times before they get to bed. The first time, Hanzo barely manages to mask his impatience; the second, he snaps and tells him to knock it off or he will be sleeping alone. This seems to sober McCree up for the rest of the night.

Until they’re about to fall asleep.

With McCree plastered against his back and an arm around his waist, Hanzo is comfortable and well on his way to dozing off. McCree shifts, nudging his nose into the back of his neck, and says, “I know you’re gonna yell at me for this, but I still--”

Hanzo sits up abruptly, dislodging himself from McCree’s hold to glare down at him. “I have told you a thousand times it is fine!” he snaps. McCree stares back at him, visibly alarmed. “At this point, your incessant apologizing is far more annoying than the original offense. What will it take to convince you that I am no longer angry?”

McCree props himself up on one arm, reducing their difference in height. Now he looks agitated as well. “It was a touchy subject and I feel bad for it,” he replies irritably. “I ain’t one to do that kind of thing to my significant others and that’s a bigger subject than most. Why are  _ you _ mad that I want to make it right?”

“You made it right hours ago. It was a minor offense at worst. Your constant guilt is unnecessary and forces me to coddle you every time.”

McCree shrinks back. It’s a moment before he speaks, tone bitter, “Well, shit. Didn’t realize my  _ guilt _ was so hard on you. I’ve spent the entire day feeling awful for what I said to you, because I care about you and you deserve better than me runnin’ my mouth without thinkin’ like I always do, but I guess I’ll just put all that way. But hell, fine, I’m sorry for bein’ sorry.” He rolls over and turns his back to Hanzo, a clear dismissal. His shoulders are a tense wall between the two of them at the edge of an expanse of empty bed. 

Hanzo feels his anger evaporate instantly. 

Of course he knows from a logical standpoint that McCree cares about him in some fashion, but it’s another thing entirely to hear it said aloud. The reminder fills Hanzo with heavy shame, and he slowly settles himself back into the bed. 

“My apologies,” he says softly. He waits, watching at the tension slowly ebbs from McCree’s muscles. After a minute, McCree sighs dramatically and flops onto his back, turning his head to look at Hanzo with a smile. 

“Dammit, I never can stay mad at you,” he says, drawing a hesitant smile from Hanzo as well. Before he knows it, he is all but enveloped in McCree’s bear-like embrace, as though the minute they spent not touching was a punishment all its own. He laughs, and so does McCree, and the air finally starts to clear again. 

Once McCree has arranged them both to his liking and they’ve settled again, he says, “I didn’t mean to annoy you all day. I just wanted to be sure. Y’know I can’t always tell what you’re thinkin’.”

Hanzo tucks his head further into the protective shelter under McCree’s chin. He thinks for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve never struck me as someone to apologize much. When it’s necessary, yes, but not repeatedly.”

McCree hums, a deep rumble that Hanzo can feel in his own chest. “S’true, I’m not,” he says. “But you’re different. I promised that I’d be good to you when this all started, and I intend to keep my word. And if that means followin’ you around all day like a puppy to beg for forgiveness, I’ll do it.”

Hanzo feels his face flush and is grateful that McCree cannot see from this angle. “That will not be necessary,” he mumbles, and McCree chuckles. 

“No, I guess not, as I learned today,” he says. “Still, though. If I had to.”


End file.
